


Your Body Is a Feast

by gloss



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Kinktober 2019, M/M, OTP Feels, Rimming, ass in the air heart on his sleeve, ass worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 09:35:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20872049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: Ass-worship. Finn and Poe. Pretty straightforward.Happy Kinktober!





	Your Body Is a Feast

When Poe returns to the tiny room they've been shacking up in for a little too long, he's surprised to find Finn there. Surprised, yes, but more than that: _delighted_.

The sleeping platform occupies a good 85% of the room and is located at the most inconvenient height. Low enough that he's always knocking his forehead on it, but high enough that you can't just roll out of bed in the middle of the night, whether for a klaxon or a piss. Underneath the platform, they keep a single-reactor cooker and caf ingredients. Finn hangs his few clothes there, too, and claims there's more than enough room for Poe's. _Certainly more room than on the floor and elsewhere,_ he says but he's generous like that.

Above the platform rises the room's single window, wider and taller than the room itself. This building used to be something else, some flunky's dacha or a finishing school, Poe didn't listen all that closely to the history lesson. He was still recovering from a firefight followed by a crash when the Resistance moved in here; what he remembers most from those days is leaning against Finn not just for fun, but out of necessity. He couldn't quite see straight, nor could his feet reliably find the floor. Finn was the only steady thing in sight; everything else was whirling, overly bright and unfocused.

He can see fine now, however, which is a gift and a glory worthy of great poetry and odes to the Force and, possibly, a cantata of some sort. Because he's just below eye level with Finn's ass, and for the moment, Poe can't remember ever being anywhere else. Finn's sprawled on his side, back to the door and Poe, a dark blanket twisted over his waist. Other than that (exceptionally blessed blanket), nothing covers him but the lemony light filtering in through the window.

"Looks like lunch came early," Poe says and smacks his lips. "Wait, that came out wrong. Let me go out and come back in."

Stirring sleepily, Finn stretches and looks over his shoulder. His eyes aren't all the way open and his cheek is mashed against his arm, and all the same, he looks better than most people ever manage. 

"Hey," he says thickly. "When did you come in?"

"Looks like I'll be dining in," Poe says, which is a slight improvement on his previous line, but still not quite right, damn it. Finn frowns in confusion, so Poe adds, "Just got here. Needed my pad and —" Finn rolls over and loops his arm around Poe's neck, pulling him up on his toes to kiss him. Poe's not quite tall enough, so Finn kisses his forehead before lying back down. "Hi."

"Hi," Finn says. "Missed you."

Poe bounces up and down. "You're supposed to be seventeen jumps away."

Finn rubs one eye. "I was, but then we finished early, so I'm back."

"You finished early? But —" His mission was, so far as Poe remembers, a multistage operation, dependent on a lot of iffy intelligence and one heist as well as four separate bribes. The estimated time-frame was ridiculously optimistic, and even that didn't have Finn returning for another half-week. "Good for you."

Finn stretches again, groaning happily. Poe watches as Finn's muscles shift against each other, lengthen, then bunch back up, all the way down to his round little toes.

"Are you going to get up here?" Finn asks the ceiling. "Any time soon? Or are you playing hard to get?"

"Me?"

"Anyone else here, Dameron?"

Poe checks over his shoulder. "I meant—. I didn't think—." He coughs and fixes his posture. "Looks like I'll have the buffet to myself." 

Still not right, but getting there.

"Kitchen's closing soon," Finn tells him and flings out his arm, wiggling his fingers. "Better get a move on."

Poe has been doing several extra reps in the fitness sims when he can for _just_ this sort of occasion. He grasps the edge of the platform and lifts himself as smoothly as he can. He gets some good height, but then his arms buckle and his legs kick out and Finn ends up hauling him the rest of the way.

He's embarrassed, _obviously_, but he can hardly complain about being pulled atop Finn. He's still breathless, head swimming, but Finn's kissing him for real now, so Poe expects he'll be breathless and dizzy for a good while yet. He squirms up Finn's body to straddle his waist and lifts himself free, just long enough to pull off his jersey and unbutton his trousers.

Finn smiles up at him, heavy-lidded eyes and sharp white teeth.

"What?" Poe asks. "You're way ahead of me."

"I am, yeah," Finn says mysteriously and strokes Poe through his drawers. "Come back here."

Poe lowers himself carefully, so he doesn't dislodge Finn's hand, and loses himself in kissing some more. Finn's erection rides the crease of Poe's hip, the head rubbing his bare skin. It's hot and _sticky_, and eventually, Poe manages to string two thoughts together in the happy inferno of his mind.

"You jerked off," he murmurs against Finn's chin and grinds against Finn's palm. 

"I did, yeah."

"Hot."

"Sure," Finn says, laughter in his voice. "You keep leaving your shorts around, a man gets inspired."

Poe's chest sort of caves in and overheats all at once at that; groaning, he buries his face in the curve of Finn's neck. Finn's free hand slides around Poe's hip to his ass and tugs down his trousers and shorts to stroke his crack.

"Told you I missed you," Finn says. He's not laughing any more. He's husky, and intent, and those are _nails_ scraping the sensitive skin in Poe's crack.

"Yeah, but—" Poe works his ass back, lifts it, rubs himself against Finn's exploring touch. "Damn."

Finn sucks kisses up along Poe's throat before craning up to kiss Poe's mouth. He slaps one buttock hard. "Turn around?"

"Man, but I want—" Poe frowns. "Turn around where?"

"Master of evasive flight and surprise maneuvers," Finn says, laughing again, "get you in bed and you have two left feet."

"Yeah, yeah," Poe replies. Sliding down to Finn's thighs, he sits back on his heels and jerks Finn's cock while staring as fiercely and _meaningfully_ into Finn's eyes as possible. "I wanted to blow you!"

"I want your ass first," Finn says, like they're negotiating where to get takeaway tonight. 

"Damn," Poe says and his cock throbs and his hole clenches happily.

"Is that a no, Dameron?" Finn's pushed up on one elbow now, and, somehow, his nakedness arrests Poe all over again.

"It's a huge motherfucking _yes_," Poe says and yanks down his trousers to his knees, then kicks out one leg to free it. It's a messy operation, and he knocks another dent in the cheap wall that separates their room from Bastian's, and he does not care, because now he's bare-assed and Finn's tugging, pulling, _arranging_ him to kneel over his chest and this is perfect.

Finn's breath breaks warm over the inside of Poe's thighs, and Poe's face is centimeters from Finn's dick, and where else would he rather be? Other than attending the mass funeral for every First Orderly and Sith and Knight of Ren, nowhere. (He is very much looking forward to pissing on the cenotaph, thanks for asking.) 

Now he's not thinking about funerals, or death, or war, or what his own full name might be. He has no higher-level thought, not as Finn's kiss roves over his thighs and the crease between ass and leg, and up over one cheek. It dances across the small of Poe's back, dips flirtatiously into the top of his crack, then skips down the other cheek. Finn bites him there, hard, and shakes his head a little as he massages the other cheek with his hand and digs fingers into the crack to spread Poe all the wider.

Poe's cock bobs, untouched and dripping, smearing Finn's chest. The heat that usually concentrates in his cock is diffuse now, radiating from Finn's mouth and touch, growing hotter as it widens and presses deeper. He can hear himself moaning, but only after realizing he's drooling, and he only realizes _that_ when the spit gets on his chin. He really can't think, only feel, and reach back to open himself more.

Finn chuckles and moves Poe's hand out of the way, but not before squeezing it. "I've got this, don't worry."

Poe would say something but there aren't words in his mouth, just noise and spit and hunger. He drops his hips to grind his dick against Finn and thrusts his ass back and up.

"Just like that," Finn says and he sounds kind of hushed. "Look at you, just like that."

So Poe does it again, and again, until Finn grabs his ass with both hands and buries his face in the crack, groaning and biting. He works down to Poe's hole and the bites soften to kisses, but filthy ones, deep and desperate, that gnaw at Poe's rim and fuck him with Finn's tongue, until he's open yet more and then Finn's tongue is flicking around the circle and corkscrewing inside. Huge, strong, and so hot, Finn's mouth is devouring him, sucking him inside out, _slurping_ as Poe keens and moans. Before him, Finn's dick is dancing again, all the way hard, sparkling with fresh pre-cum. Poe laps at it, up the shaft and across the head, and in response, Finn tongue-fucks him deeper yet. Finn's moans are muffled by Poe's own body, but they travel through him in trembling, accelerating waves. He wraps one hand around the base of Finn's shaft to hold it steady and taste his fill. He comes, shooting on Finn's chest, emptying his skin and bones in pulsing flashes; when he's coming back to himself, Finn's starting to come. It hits Poe in the eye, across his face, and, finally, on his tongue.

Finn pauses, clutching Poe's hips, tongue pounding against him. When Poe finally lets go of his dick, Finn returns to what he was doing, maybe even more enthusiastically. He bends one knee to brace his foot on the bed and pulls Poe further up, so now there's a finger alternating places with his tongue, fucking Poe and simply not stopping.

When Poe comes again, there's not much to shoot and it's like his dick got twisted, and he doesn't care, because Finn's still moaning into him and nibbling on his ass and he's not going to sit comfortably for quite some time.

"Man," Poe finally says when his knees are aching and his eyes are stinging from sweat, "Finn. Man. _Fuck_."

Finn takes his sweet, sweet time easing off: loosens his grip finger by finger, gentles the bites back down to pecks, sucks on Poe's hole until Poe shouts.

"Done," Finn announces, rubbing his hands up Poe's flanks before he embraces him around the hips and hugs. 

"Gotta get off these fucking knees," Poe mutters and Finn laughs at him, but helps him.

"Looks like I got the buffet, smorgasbord, table service _and_ banquet," Finn says. Poe lies against him, arm over his waist.

"Omokase," Poe says. "I'm just the meat, you're the genius."

"Fine, fine meat," Finn says, brushing the sweaty hair off Poe's forehead. "Highest quality."

When Finn gets up to clean up and wash out his mouth, Poe rolls himself up in the blankets and dozes. Finn climbs back onto the platform soon enough, smelling like herbs and soap, and curls around him.

"Missed you," Poe says.

They're quiet for a long time as they breathe together, slow and deep. "Mutual," Finn replies, so quietly it could be a heavy sigh, and tightens his embrace.


End file.
